Weekends With the Boy Across the Hall
by HotlipsPierce
Summary: If Goodbye Farewell and Amen wasn't the end for Hawkeye and Margaret.
1. Chapter 1

_Weekends with the Boy Across the Hall_

by HotlipsPierce

A/N: This is just the first chapter of my little story. Let me know what you think, but be gentle; this is my first fic. As with all of us here, I own NOTHING. Special thanks to LongLiveRock and Hawk&Hotlips for helping me come up with a title. With that said, let the story begin!!

"_Look, Margaret, when you were talking earlier about working in a stateside hospital, I started thinking…"_

_"About what, Hawk?"_

_"Well, there's a VA hospital in Portland. Portland, Maine, I mean, not Oregon."_

_"I know."_

_"Right. Of course you know. Anyway…I was wondering what you would think of possibly putting in to work there. Portland is far enough away from Crabapple Cove that you could live your own life…"_

_"…but close enough so that if either of us needs a shoulder to cry on…"_

_"Exactly. I mean, it was just a thought, and if you don't want to do that, it's perfectly fine. It's your career, after all, and who am I…"_

_"Pierce."_

_"Yes?"_

_"That's a wonderful idea. I'm only sorry I didn't think of it myself."_

_"Really?"_

_"Really. It makes complete sense, quite frankly. Who better will understand when we go off on some weird tangent about this place than each other?"_

_"Who said anything about going off on 'weird tangents'?"_

_"Hawkeye, I've known you for three years. You go off on tangents."_

_"That's your opinion."_

_"Fine. In any case, I'm going to take a month-long furlough in Hawaii, and then, I'll transfer to Portland."_

_"That's fantastic. You're going to love Maine. The landscape is amazing, and the food's to die for. Have I ever told you about the lobster?"_

_"Repeatedly. I can't wait."_

_"Thank you."_

_"For what?"_

_"For doing this."_

_"Believe me, it's my pleasure. Thank you for coming by tonight."_

_"You're welcome. So I guess this means we won't have to say goodbye tomorrow."_

_"I guess not. What are going to do instead?"_

_"Oh, I'm sure we'll think of something." The captain smiled as he bent down to lay a soft kiss on Margaret's cheek before heading back to what was left of the Swamp after the fire. She leaned against the doorframe and breathed a sigh of relief. Maybe she would survive peace in her time after all, but what was that wretched ringing sound?_

Margaret's eyelids burst open before she reached over to hit the snooze button on her alarm. Why couldn't that stupid clock just once let her get to the best part of that dream, the part that took place the next day? As she pulled the covers closer, she thought back on that kiss. Her eyes had been closed, but she could just imagine the look on her friends' faces. While she giggled at the memory, her alarm went off again. "Time to get out of bed."

She padded over to her bedroom window and proceeded to open the curtains. Hawkeye had been right. Maine was beautiful. Even on this dreary March day, Maine was so beautiful.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Thank you all _so _much for the kind reviews of Chapter 1. Your love made my day!! So here's Chapter 2. I want to apologize to anyone living in Portland, Maine, as I was too lazy to actually find out what the names of your streets are; I just made one up. This chapter, like the one before, is mainly from Margaret's perspective. I plan to write from Hawkeye's perspective next chapter. As I said before, I own NOTHING, not even the computer I'm typing at…on…whatever. Enjoy!!**

A chill suddenly overtook Margaret as she turned and ran to the shower. The very thought that it was _finally_ Friday was enough to get her going. As much as she loved Portland, there was one place she wanted to be more than anything. Margaret may have physically walked out of 1633 West Hanover Street, Apartment 2B, but she mentally walked into 14 Thoreau Avenue.

Until she could really be there, however, Margaret had work to get done at the Portland VA hospital. There were more patients in her ward than she had initially anticipated, but that did little to faze Major Houlihan. She made her rounds with an ease and efficiency that never ceased to amaze her peers. Many were shocked to find that the major had turned down the position of chief nurse, but Margaret never had any regrets. She had wanted to ease into stateside life without the added burden of leadership. In any case, being head nurse would have meant giving up her weekends, and those she had come to treasure above all.

"Lieutenant Pritchard?"

"Yes, Major?"

"I'm getting ready to leave. Make sure the patient in room 325 gets a new I.V. in thirty minutes, and note that the man in 310 is allergic to penicillin. It's written on his chart, but should something happen to him, the doctors might miss that in their hurry."

"Yes, ma'am. Five o'clock already?"

"Thank God for small favors."

"Give my regards to Doctor Tall, Dark, and Handsome."

"I will. Have a good weekend." With that, Margaret was out to her car and on the highway to Crabapple Cove.

When she had first moved to Maine, Margaret had tried to live full-time in Portland and only come out to Crabapple Cove every now and again for dinner, but she soon found the town and her two favorite residents to be an addiction of sorts. Margaret loved how almost every street in town was named after a famous Transcendentalist, and how Mrs. Smith, the little old lady at the counter of the local grocery store _always_ greeted Hawkeye by proclaiming, "Benjamin Franklin Pierce, as I live and breathe!" She had also quickly realized that nothing tastes better than lobster smothered in melted butter with a glass of white wine to wash it down.

By the time she turned off Alcott Boulevard and onto Thoreau Avenue, the excitement in the pit of her stomach had built up so much she could hardly stand it. Her friendship with the Doctors Pierce had become one of the most important things in her life, much to her delight, and they were more than happy to have her. Within weeks of her move, she was kindly informed that she had a permanent room in the Pierce residence, and doggone it, she better use it. Even though knowing she could live on her own in Portland had been one of Hawkeye's biggest selling points in getting her to transfer out here, Margaret found that she was most at peace in Crabapple Cove by the ocean with Hawkeye…oh, and Daniel of course, as well.

Deciding it was probably best not to ponder her last thought too much, Margaret jumped out of her car and jogged to the front door. As usual, it was open. "Boys, I'm here!"

"In the kitchen!" came the older voice of Daniel Pierce. "Hello, dear."

"Hell-" before she could finish her greeting, Hawkeye shoved a spoonful of something in her mouth.

"It's meat sauce," he explained. "What's missing?"

She savored the sweet mixture of tomatoes and meat and thought for a few seconds before replying, "Onion powder."

"Ha!"

"I don't care what either of you kids say, there is a thing as too much seasoning."

"Not for pasta sauce. As I was saying before, hello, Daniel."

"Hello, Magpie."

"Dad! Don't call her that."

"Oh, Hawk, let it go. I like it. It's cute."

"You say this now, Margaret, but you fail to realize that's exactly what my mother said when he started calling me 'Hawkeye.' Are you prepared to go through life as 'Magpie Houlihan'?"

"Benjamin Franklin, are you knocking your nickname?"

Margaret couldn't help but laugh at the rapport the Pierce men had with each other. It was one she'd never had with her own father, whom she hadn't spoken to since he made that one visit to the 4077. They never did take that weekend in Tokyo. Margaret was compelled to force those thoughts to the back of her mind as Daniel interrupted her reverie.

"Did you bring any luggage, dear?"

"Just a small bag of clean laundry."

"Why won't you let us take care of some of that?"

"Because Hawkeye, I don't trust you with clothing."

"Since when?"

"Since I saw that lopsided shirt you bought for BJ on one of your R&R's a couple years back."

"Ben, before you shoot your mouth off, go get Margaret's bags from her car."

"Fine, but first," he enveloped his friend in a monstrous hug, "hi."

"Hi. Thank you."

"Any time." As he ran out to her car, Margaret moved to stand by his father.

"How's he been this week?"

"Really well, actually. Mrs. Donovan brought her three-year-old, Jimmy in for a check-up. Ben was able to see him alone for almost a full half-hour before calling in Nurse Ellis so he could go out and get some air."

"Great. He actually called me on Wednesday to tell me about that. I have to tell you, though, he's still scared he won't ever be comfortable around little kids again."

"Have you talked to Dr. Freedman?"

"Yeah. Sidney said that if he just keeps working like he is, Hawk should be fine soon."

"Good. I'd hate to miss out on my chance for grandchildren because of this."

"Daniel!"

"What?"

"What'd my father do now?" Hawkeye asked, having brought Margaret's suitcase to her room and trying his best not to eavesdrop on the conversation he knew he was the subject of.

"He's just being obnoxious. Now I know where you get it."

"Hey!" Daniel exclaimed.

"Along with your good looks, sweet friendly kisses on the cheek, and wonderful sense of humor."

"That's better."

"I don't know, Dad. She told me once that slabs of liver could kiss better than me."

"Oh?"

"I can explain…"

The three sat down to dinner, although they didn't eat very much. Instead, they talked the night away, sharing stories from the past week, tales of Korea, and anecdotes from Hawkeye's childhood. Margaret loved to laugh, and she never laughed harder than when she was at this table. She had no idea what she would do without these men. They were her support system. Margaret knew that if she ever had a nightmare or just needed to talk someone who would get her point of view, she could call Hawkeye, and vice versa. She also knew how important she was to Hawkeye's recovery from his nervous breakdown, and she was proud to be of service. She only hoped all her friends from the MASH 4077 could have the same kind of friendship she had.

The only thing Margaret was unsure about when it came to her weekend visits was of her exact relationship with Hawkeye. There was an unspoken agreement between the two to keep it platonic, but she couldn't help but wonder if it always had to be that way. At the very least, she wondered what Hawkeye thought. During their last months in Korea, it had always seemed that a romance was just threatening to blossom, but they'd known better. Their personalities and backgrounds were just too different to be able to really handle each other. But still, Margaret had thought from time to time, if they would just take the time to attempt to deal with each other, it could really be something beautiful. As she looked over at the man with the sad smiling eyes and the hearty laugh, she had a hard time thinking of one good reason not to try.

"Okay, kids, I'm off to bed."

"You sure you don't want a nightcap first, Dad?"

"I'm sure. There are seven people counting on seeing me before 10:45 tomorrow morning. The least I could do is keep a clear mind."

"Dan, one drink won't hurt."

"Goodnight." Daniel chuckled as he marched up the stairs to his bedroom. He was surprised those two hadn't figured out yet that one of his main goals every weekend was to let them have as much time alone together as possible. He wasn't kidding about those grandkids.

"Do you want to watch some TV?"

"Not really. I think I'm starting to get old because I want to go to sleep now, too."

"Oh."

"But unlike the old man that just went upstairs, I will have a nightcap."

"Okay!" Hawkeye's eyes lit up as he darted across the living room to the bar. Margaret loved that look. It told her that somewhere in that complicated mass of surgeon was the little boy she'd first met. Sometimes she wished she could just strangle Truman and MacArthur for taking away what innocence Hawkeye had before he was sent to Korea. "Scotch all right?"

"Perfect. Hey Hawk?"

"Hmm…?"

"When was the last time you talked to BJ?"

"Um…around Christmas. We were on the phone for what had to be three hours. Why do you ask?"

"Oh, I was just wondering how he was doing."

"Well, in December, he was still cleaning out two years' worth of leaves from his gutter and loving every second of it."

"That sounds like BJ."

"Oh! I almost forgot to tell you. I got a letter from Radar the other day."

"You did? May I see it?"

"Let me go get it. I'll read it to you." A few seconds later the two were sitting on the sofa with their drinks as Hawkeye opened the letter.

_February 21, 1954_

_Dear Hawkeye,_

_It's been just over six months since I heard about the end of the war. That was one of the greatest days of my life, almost as great as the day I came home. I hope you are settled back in Maine. I got a call from Colonel Potter yesterday, and we talked for hours and hours. I'm glad he was the one paying for the long distance because otherwise my mom would have killed me. Anyway, we talked about how you planned on making Crabapple Cove say "ah" and I think that's just wonderful. I know when I got back, the slower pace was the most nifty thing in the world. The colonel also told me about how you were sick the last couple weeks of the war...police action. I was very sorry to hear about that, but I hope you are better now. Colonel Potter was wondering if you knew where Major Houlihan is now. He wanted me to help find her, but I'm scared that if I call her, she'll yell at me. She didn't yell at you as much before I left, so I'm giving the job to you. Good luck._

_I wanted to thank you all for sending Park Sung to help us out at the farm. I am proud to say (truthfully) that the O'Reilly farm is doing great! In fact, we're doing so well I've been able to save up money for college! Park Sung is so good at all the farm work I'm practically not needed now, so I was thinking of taking some creative writing classes at Quincy College in Quincy, Illinois, this summer. It's a really good college, and Quincy is just across the Mississippi River from Hannibal, so I can stay with the Potters. I'm very excited._

_I have a girlfriend now, Hawkeye. Her name's Patty and she lives in Lincoln, Missouri, which is about 100 miles from Ottumwa. I visit her every Sunday after church. Sometimes she comes up here. She was a nurse in Tokyo, and I met her at the airport right before the end of my last R&R. This is just between us, Hawk, but I'm thinking of proposing to her. Can you believe it? Me, married?_

_Well, I hope you're doing swell._

_Your friend,_

_Walter O'Reilly_

_P.S. Just out of curiosity, what did you end up doing with my teddy bear?_

"I'm proud of the little kid."

"Me, too, but does he really think I just live to yell at him?"

"That seems to be the impression he got."

"Well, sure, I yelled a few times…"

"A _few_?"

"Pierce…"

"Right, just a few times. You were saying?"

"I may have kicked him once or twice, and once I threw a garbage can onto his head, but does that make me a bad person?" Margaret stared innocently at Hawkeye for a couple seconds before he burst out laughing. "Pierce, this isn't funny. Hawkeye, stop laughing. C'mon, is it really necessary to fall on the floor?"

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry. It's just the look on your face was so priceless." Hawkeye stopped rolling around the floor and sat up to talk to his friend. "We may just want to start exploring the option of anger management classes."

Margaret rolled her eyes. "That's it. I'm going to bed."

"Margaret! Margaret, wait."

"Goodnight, Pierce."

"Wait." He grabbed he from behind just as she began to ascend the stairs and held her close. "You're not a bad person. You're an amazing person. Don't let this bug you. A different, but still amazing, Major Houlihan was mean to Radar. Once you get back in touch with Colonel Potter, and therefore back in touch with Radar, you can show him how marvelous this Major Houlihan is. Okay?"

"Okay."

"Good. Now before you go to bed, I need to tell you that we've decided to start conserving water. Therefore, we'll have to shower together."

"Pierce, you'll never change," she laughed as she broke out of his embrace and started up the stairs, all the while mumbling something about how she should've court-martialed him when she had the chance.

"You don't mean that!"

"Ssshh…you'll wake your dad."

"I seriously doubt he'll mind."

"Huh?"

"Never mind." He bent down to kiss her cheek. "I'll see you tomorrow."

"Night." Hawkeye watched her until her door was completely shut before turning to walk across the hall to his own room. As he changed into his pajamas and crawled into bed, one thought was on his mind. _What is she doing to me?_


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Thank you again for all your kind words, especially laurydory. On that note, I've fixed Chapter 2 so that it doesn't look as though a two-year-old wrote it. I think after this chapter I can milk just one more chapter out of this, but have no fear, I've already thought about writing a sequel. Just have to get through mid-terms first. Does anyone else think it's sad that my Latin notebook now has more of this story in it than it does Latin? As usual, I'm too broke to own anything. Enjoy.**

As the early morning sunlight gently streamed across his face, Hawkeye's eyes fluttered open. He loved waking up like this. There was no stress, nothing to pull him out of bed, nothing to make him regret waking up in the first place. Then again, any day that didn't start with the sweet sounds of Radar's bugling or "ATTENTION ALL PERSONNEL!" was a good day for him. Quiet times such as these allowed Hawkeye moments for reflection, and on this morning, he chose to reflect on Major Margaret Houlihan.

Although she had calmed considerably in the years since he'd first met her, the woman was still a pistol. Hawkeye chuckled as he remembered all the times they'd clashed in Korea. That didn't happen as much now. _Maybe I've calmed down, too._

Within two minutes of his return to his father, he'd already told Daniel Pierce of his and Margaret's "great plan." The elder Pierce hadn't been as convinced as the younger about the genius of this endeavor. Over the past three years, he'd received numerous letters describing the major in very colorful terms punctuated with some choice four-letter words. Despite Hawkeye's assurances otherwise, Daniel hadn't been too sure Margaret was the type of person he wanted in his son's life at that point.

_Boy, did that change, _Hawkeye mused with a smile. On Margaret's first night in Portland, the men took her out to dinner. By the end of the evening, Daniel had bestowed upon her a nickname – his highest sign of approval – and all the way back to Crabapple Cove he had spoken of nothing else except how they could renovate the guest room for her. The man had fallen in love with her fiery passion, her witty sense of humor, her sharp intellect, and it didn't hurt that she was nice to look at, as well. _Like father, like son._

Hawkeye knew that to anyone on the outside looking in, he and Margaret bore a strong resemblance to a couple in love. He seriously doubted that many friends hugged, touched, or just stared intently at each other as much as they did. And, like many an established couple, they had fallen into a certain routine. It wasn't boring by any sense of the word, but it was a routine nevertheless. Every Monday and Wednesday evening, he called Margaret. She called him on Tuesdays and Thursdays. They would discuss how their days went and compare notes on how their readjustment to the states was going. On Fridays, she would come and spend the weekend with him and his father. And on Saturdays - right about this time, in fact - something very special happened:

"Pierce, move over. It's freezing."

"Good morning to you, too." Every Saturday morning, she would crawl into bed with him. There wasn't anything sexual in it; some things just felt more appropriate being discussed here rather than over the phone or at the breakfast table. Whereas King Arthur and his knights had their round table, he and Margaret had his rectangular bed. Most times they quietly shared their wants, needs, fears, and goals in life. Some mornings they just fell back to sleep, content in the knowledge that the person next to them would always be there for them. Hawkeye was tempted to do that today, but Margaret seemed slightly more talkative.

"Have I ever told you how much I love this down comforter? Where did you get it?"

"At that furniture store just a few blocks down from your apartment. It was my gift to myself for having survived three years' worth of khaki Hell."

"It's so nice and soft and warm."

"Would you like one?"

"Desperately."

"You'll get one for your birthday."

"You're the best."

"I know."

They were silent for a while as they listened to Daniel putter around downstairs. Hawkeye was sure his father thought his son wasn't wise to what he was trying to do. He knew it was Daniel's secret wish to see him and Margaret fall deeply in love and give him a whole brood of grandchildren. Quite frankly, he wasn't averse at all to fulfilling that desire, but he knew Margaret would never go for it. Although she had bounced back remarkably well, the failure of her marriage and her falling out with Scully had deeply shaken her. Her "minimum standard requirement" speech that night in the O-Club still stuck with him. She wanted a percentage of him along with bits and pieces of other men; he could only give her him. Also, even though she hadn't spoken with him in months, he knew she very much sought her father's approval. A serious relationship with the man he'd unceremoniously labeled a "disgrace to the flag" would not go over well, to say the least. So, despite all the feelings that lingered between them, Hawkeye was determined not to jeopardize what an amazing friendship they had by asking Margaret what she would think about them being together. He already knew the answer.

He looked over to see what she was doing. It seemed the major had drifted peacefully back to sleep. Margaret looked beautiful as she slept. _She doesn't look half-bad when she's awake, either._ As he gazed upon her, Hawkeye became concerned. Her demeanor was changing, and he knew better than anyone what that meant. His suspicions were painfully confirmed as Margaret suddenly sat up, screaming.

"NO, NO, NO!! STOP!!"

"Margaret!" He quickly pulled her to him and started stroking her back. "I've got you. Sshh…don't cry. It was just a nightmare. You're okay. I'm here."

She sobbed into his shoulder. "It was horrible, Hawkeye. We were in that abandoned hut, and one of the shells came through the roof. It killed you, and I was left all alone. Then the North Koreans came and…and…"

"Hey. I've got you. I'm here, I'm alive, and I've got you."

Margaret looked up and a look of realization crossed her face. "You always do," she whispered.

"I always do."

"No, I mean really, you always have. For as long as we've known each other, no matter how annoyed we were at the time, if I needed you, you were there."

"Don't sell yourself short. You've been there for me, too. Remember that flu epidemic?"

Margaret scooted closer to him, and in response, he held her tighter. "You're a good friend, Ben Pierce." _I wish you could be more._

"You're an even better friend, Margaret Houlihan." _But I want you to be more._ "Catch your breath yet?"

"Yeah, but I don't think I could go back to sleep."

"Fantastic."

"Come again?"

"We're wasting daylight, Major! C'mon, let's get showered and dressed, and I'll make you breakfast. Then, we'll talk about what we want to do today."

"Okay. Why don't you go take your shower first since you're cooking?"

"Margaret, you want me to shower alone? My heart breaks at the very thought!"

"Shut up, Pierce!" She pushed him out of bed and proceeded to run to her own room, giggling all the way. He watched her escape, then shook his head and grinned. _A pistol, indeed._

Twenty minutes later, the doctor was downstairs in the kitchen pulling various pots and pans from the cupboards in preparation for the making of his famous French toast. When he heard the shower turn on above him, he paused. Hawkeye had learned recently that Margaret had a penchant for taking long showers and then slowly getting dressed afterward. Anything he started now would be cold or soggy by the time she got to it. So, he put the pan he was holding down and decided to hold off on cooking for a while. _Now is as good a time as any to write Radar back._ He pulled out a pen and paper from a drawer sat down at the breakfast nook.

_March 6, 1954_

_Dear Radar,_

_I want to thank you so much for writing me. I'm so happy to hear about how well you're doing in Iowa, and, yes, I'm settled here in Crabapple Cove. You're right; the slower pace is nifty indeed. It's also good to hear that you've talked to Colonel Potter. He missed you a lot after you left. The place just wasn't the same without you. I think it was because Klinger wasn't as cuddly._

_Yes, I am feeling much better now, although I still feel a lot of guilt. I inadvertently caused the death of a baby, Radar, and it doesn't matter how many times I'm told it wasn't my fault; I doubt that pain will ever go away. I still have a long way to go, but my main goal is to feel comfortable again with small children. I owe myself, my friends, and my family that._

_You're going to love college. It's a great experience, and you'll have so much to write about in those writing classes. It's great you chose a college near Hannibal. I have a feeling you'll get along with the Potters swimmingly. Maybe you can find the colonel another Sophie._

_As for Major Houlihan, I know exactly where she is. After the war, she transferred to the Portland, Maine, VA Hospital. Her phone number is Portland 555-1128. She lives only a couple hours from me. Margaret comes to visit my father and me every weekend and we talk all the time. Don't be afraid of her. I promise that if you call her, she won't yell at you. I'm sad that you missed watching Margaret develop into such a fantastic person. I think once she figured out that opening up and talking to people wouldn't make her any less of a major, she wasn't as abrasive to people. She even made a few friends._

_Since you were so kind as to share a secret with me (by the way, I hope Patty says yes – you'll make a wonderful husband), I'm going to return the favor and share a secret with you. Don't tell anyone, not even our mutual friend Private Charles Lamb. You know who I'm talking about. I think I've fallen in love with Margaret. I can't stop thinking about her. There's just something so irresistible about a woman who will salute you one second and stuff oatmeal in your boot the next. You should have seen our big goodbye scene in Korea. I'm sure Colonel Potter told you about it. If not, make him. It was such a special moment for me, but I'm sure she hasn't even given the slightest thought to it._

_Okay, I've got to go. I hear the major finishing up her shower, and I promised to make her breakfast. Write me again soon, Radar._

_Your friend,_

_Benjamin Franklin Pierce_

_P.S. We put your teddy bear in a time capsule about a month before we left the 4077. Your little friend came to symbolize all the people who'd come to fight as boys but left as men. Sounds a little like a friend of mine._

Hawkeye closed the letter, found an envelope, and addressed it. He set it on the table, but quickly reconsidered. He instead picked it up and put it in his pocket. The last thing he needed was for Margaret to get curious.

He started to make breakfast, and by the time he sprinkled the last sugars on the toast, Margaret was sitting at the table waiting for him.

"So have you figured out what you wanted to do today?" Hawkeye asked as he set the plates down.

"Well, as I was waiting for you to finish your shower, I started reading the Crabapple Cove Courier. It said there was a farmer's market downtown today. I need some new flowers for my place. The bouquet you sent me – thank you again, by the way…"

"You're welcome again."

"…those are starting to wilt, so maybe they'll have some nice ones there."

"I don't know, Margaret. I doubt we'll have much flower-wise this early in the year."

"You think?"

"However, I'm sure they'll have some nice arts and crafts things, so maybe we can find something to decorate that room of yours."

"It is bland, isn't it?"

"Yes, but I think at least one good painting should liven it up."

"I agree. Oh, and after that, I want to stop at a store downtown. There's something I want to get us, but it's a surprise, so don't ask."

"Fine. Can I guess, though?"

"Nope."

"Party pooper."

"I do my best."

Hawkeye and Margaret finished breakfast and ran out to her car. Minutes later, they'd traveled the few blocks it took to get downtown and arrived at the farmer's market being held in Julia Ward Howe Park. As Hawkeye had predicted, very little was to be found in the realm of horticulture, but Margaret did succeed in finding the perfect decoration for her room. It was a painting made by Mrs. Winston, who lived down the street from the Pierces. In it, a little boy and girl were playing outside. The boy was pulling the girl's pigtails as she covered his face in mud. Once Mrs. Winston told them that she called it "The Joys of Friendship," the two knew they had to have it.

"What's your shoe size?" Margaret asked as they walked back to her car.

"Huh?"

"Shoe size. Yours. What is it?"

"Um…10 ½ C. Why do you want to know?"

"It's for the surprise. Here, open this door so I can put the painting in." Obediently, he did as she asked, all the while wondering what kind of surprise required his shoe size. _New shoes? No, she said it was for both of us, and we definitely don't wear the same shoes. Well, not anymore, if you count combat boots as shoes. Socks, then? Maybe, but Margaret's not quirky enough to get excited over socks._ So lost in thought was Hawkeye that he didn't even notice when Margaret parked in front of the toy store and told him to come in with her.

"Pierce!"

"What?"

"Would you like to join me, or do you want me to guess which roller skates would fit you best?"

"Roller skates? You're buying roller skates? Major, we're both mature, reasonable adults…" Just then, a group of kids skated by them, laughing, joking, and generally looking as though they were having the times of their lives. Hawkeye thought for second. "I want some."

"Let's go."

Although the kid working the counter at Ye Olde Toy Store thought it a little odd that the local surgeon and his friend from the army were looking to buy roller skates for themselves, he wasn't one to turn down a sale. Soon, the pair was walking back into the drafty house at 14 Thoreau Avenue, purchases in hand.

"Looks like you guys had fun."

"Indeed we did, Dad. And did you have a very rewarding day?"

"Oh yes. Hey good news: Nurse Ellis is going to be a grandmother."

"How nice! When is the baby due, Daniel?"

"Late August, early September. She said that she's going to retire then to spend more time with the child."

"So we need a new nurse?"

"So we need a new nurse." Suddenly, the same thought passed through the minds of all three standing in that living room. They stared at each other for a second, but soon thought better of it. The notion was shrugged off as swiftly as it had come to them, and they hastily tried to change the subject.

"Look at my new painting!"

"Margaret bought me roller skates!"

"Florence Merkeson has the flu!"

After a dinner of leftover pasta, Margaret and Daniel sat in the living room listening to Hawkeye excitedly tell a story. "And then, I saw a big red bird with fuzzy pink feet!"

"My, Korea sure has some exotic birds."

"No, no, Daniel. It was just Klinger. We found him unconscious a mile outside of camp."

"His tailwind gave out."

"Oh. That explains the feet. Okay, Magpie, your turn. Regale me with a tale."

"Has your son ever told you about the time General MacArthur was scheduled to inspect the 4077?"

"No! Ben, is this true?"

"Yep."

"You met MacArthur, and you didn't have the courtesy to write a little note?!"

"Dad…"

"Daniel, I said MacArthur was _scheduled_ to visit. We had the camp all cleaned up. The general's aide had briefed us. Major Burns had put together a little photo album of the camp for him."

"Frank said that Trap and I ruined it."

"Well, I didn't think a shot of Frank in the latrine was absolutely necessary, either."

"Good job, son."

"I do what I can."

"Anyway, we were in the middle of a rehearsal when we heard the general had passed Checkpoint Able. We raced into formation, saluted, everything. And then we watched as the general drove right by."

"Drove by?"

"Didn't even stop, which was a good thing believe me. If General Douglas MacArthur had made his visit to the MASH 4077, he would have found our commanding officer in a fly-fishing cap, our chief surgeon in a bathrobe with camera around his neck holding a flask, another of our surgeons wearing sunglasses, and our company clerk in a General MacArthur costume, complete with pipe! We would have been kicked right out of Korea!"

"That was the goal, Margaret. But you forgot one thing. The general did see something."

"What did he see?"

"Oh yes, he drove by Klinger, dressed up as the Statue of Liberty."

"And MacArthur didn't give him his Section 8?"

"No, Dad. He saluted him." By now, Daniel was roaring with laughter. Hawkeye was soon to follow. Even Margaret couldn't help but chuckle at the memory.

"Okay, I've made my decision. Magpie wins the weekly storytelling challenge!"

"Yes!"

"I object! I provided the punch line for that story!"

"It makes no difference, Hawkeye, my boy! Decisions of the judge are final. You know what you have to do now."

Hawkeye rolled his eyes as he got up from his chair and walked to the middle of the room. As his audience waited with baited breath and suppressed giggles, the thoroughly humiliated surgeon began to mumble, "I'm a little teapot, short and stout…"

"Louder!"

"HERE IS MY HANDLE, HERE IS MY SPOUT!"

"Where are the hand motions?"

"WHEN I GET ALL STEAMED UP, HEAR ME SHOUT. TIP ME OVER AND POUR ME OUT!" Hawkeye bowed deeply while Daniel and Margaret gave him a standing ovation. "Thank you, thank you. I'll be here all week. Tip your waitresses and try the meatloaf."

"You're a good sport, Ben."

"I need a drink."

"You've earned it. I'll go make it." Margaret got up and went over to the bar.

"You kids have fun. I'm going to bed."

"Again? Dad, you're beginning to act dangerously like an elderly man!"

"Perhaps it's because I am one. Goodnight, Hawkeye. Goodnight, Magpie."

"Night, Dad."

"Sleep well, Daniel."

Hawkeye leaned back on the sofa. Margaret handed him his drink and sat down next to him. "If Trapper John ever saw what I just did…"

"Oh, Hawk. He probably does the same thing all the time for his little girls."

"Doubt it. Of course, I haven't had any communication with the man since he left Korea, so what do I know?"

"None? Not even a letter?"

"Not even a letter."

"Oh, I'm so sorry, Hawkeye."

"It's okay. Sometimes the best of friends drift apart. Don't worry about it."

"Still, you were more than friends. You were like brothers."

"That's how I felt, too, but I understand why he didn't want to keep up. At first, you're trying to get used to being back home, and then you get busy, and then it just slips your mind. Did you keep up with Frank?"

"How do you think Louise Burns would have reacted to him getting letters from the infamous Major Houlihan? Besides, Frank and I had drifted apart before he left. We had nothing to talk about."

"Good points. Do you ever think it's weird how close we became?"

"Only everyday. Never in my wildest dreams would I have imagined three-and-a-half years ago that today I would be sitting on a couch next to the man who stuffed pudding in my pillow."

"Nor did I ever fantasize that I would be regularly inviting into my home the woman who had me arrested more times than I can count."

"We've changed."

"For the better."

"Thank God."

Meanwhile, Daniel lay upstairs in his bed listening to their conversation through the vent. _But when will they realize how perfect they are for each other?_


End file.
